It's Never too Late - By Tara Taylor Quinn Page 0,95
and won, the school’s insurance would have covered Will’s losses since he was working in an official capacity,” she said. “I’m very relieved to know that this really was just a disgruntled student believing she had a legitimate case. With the letters coming in such an underhanded fashion, I was having visions of someone with a personal vendetta against Will doing whatever it took to bring him down. I’ve seen some crazy, vindictive and vicious things in the seven years I’ve been in practice, and sometimes you pay a heavy price even when you’re in the right.”
“Well, I know that Will’s eyes have been opened wide. You can believe that all policies and practices at Montford are going to get a thorough review and be strictly enforced from here on out.”
She had to talk to Will about the liabilities involved with the eleven under-qualified students who’d been granted admission to the university. He couldn’t take back those educations. Or the benefits they’d gained. And Montford could never withstand the hit if they attempted to compensate every similarly situated student who’d applied and been turned away. The most he could do was hope those eleven never came to light.
Which they would only if one of the students who was allowed entrance was not allowed to complete his education as the other ten had been allowed to do.
It was a matter of reasonable expectation....
“He asked me to have you call him,” the sheriff was saying and then, telling her he’d be in touch, hung up.
She tried Will immediately. He wasn’t in.
* * *
ADDY WASN’T A passive sort. She wasn’t used to hanging around, waiting, surrendering control of the things that mattered most to her. She went into town, to the quaint women’s clothing store, and bought herself a pair of sexy black leggings and a gauzy blouse that hung just below her thighs. A pair of insanely high wedges were next.
She might be practical. Conservative. But that didn’t mean she had to feel undesirable. It didn’t mean she couldn’t be sexy when she needed to. She asked the saleslady to put her old clothes in the bag and wore her new outfit home.
If she’d crossed paths with anyone she used to know while she was in town, she hadn’t realized it. Hadn’t recognized them.
And that was how she needed it to be.
She wasn’t hanging around Shelter Valley for any reason having to do with her past. She was procrastinating because she’d given her heart away and couldn’t pack up the rest of her things and leave without it.
Nonnie had told her Mark was off at five—in time to babysit. And when he arrived home, she’d be waiting for him. Either he was going to forgive her, or give her heart back.
And then she’d move home.
Will called while she was still downtown. She sat in her parked car and talked to him. While he was immeasurably relieved the threats had been dealt with, he was also concerned about the other areas of liability Addy had uncovered through her research. He asked her to continue to represent him as they sorted through everything. She’d have to take the Arizona bar exam, but she wasn’t opposed to doing so.
She agreed to represent him on two conditions. Her first being that she be able to work from Colorado and travel to Shelter Valley only when absolutely necessary. The second condition had to do with Mark Heber.
What Will told her about him shocked her.
MARK HAD JUST finished working on a machine on the line, helping out the technician whose job it was to keep the machines in working repair, when he was paged to the front offices.
Four o’clock in the afternoon and he was getting paged? Pushing through the door from the factory to the office complex, Mark saw the police officer standing there before the other man saw him.
He wasn’t just a police officer, he noted as he got closer. He was the sheriff. Mark’s faculties nearly shut down.
Something had happened to Nonnie. He wasn’t ready.
“Mark Heber?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
A tanned hand reached out to him. “I’m Greg Richards.”
The man’s grip was strong, his shake friendly enough. “Good to meet you,” Mark said automatically. His manners were Nonnie’s doing. He’d made it his business to live a life that would honor her, not shame her.
“You, too,” Richards said. “I’m here because your name came up in an investigation I was involved with....”
This wasn’t about Nonnie. Anything else was superfluous.